After the Dragonborn died
by Slag-Heap
Summary: After the dragonborn meets his end, a ragged pile of bones has to pick up the pieces.
1. (prologue) The Dragonborn's Fall

They were running for their lives, The dragonborn and his lovely enchantress wife. Draugr were closing in, ten, twenty, at the least, all in control of the dragon priest Volsung. The dragonborn drew his greatsword as he was prepared to take down as many draugr as it would take to get to Volsung. He diced and sliced, and tore through draugr after draugr, each one replaced with another not long after. It was hopeless, and he knew it.

His wife busied herself trying to pick the lock on the tomb door, she was no thief, and had little experience with locks of any kind. Volsung simply watched as his near infinite army of followers closed in on their prey. The dragonborn was doing a fair number on the army, He was a strong nord warrior after all, even through all his spit, and blood, and tears, the draugr were winning. He resorted to shielding his wife with his body while she picked the lock. The draugr beat him with their bare hands, and although his armor was strong, their pounding was still agonizing.

Just as the dragonborn's last ounce of life seemed to drip away, he let out a maddening nordic war cry, and the draugr scattered. Through broken armor and bloodied lips. He let out a menacing thu'um to knock the wind out of Volsung himself. The dragonborn began staggering toward Volsung, greatsword dragging on the ground. The dragon priest raised one hand, and conjured white icy magic in his palm. The dragonborn reared up and was prepared to strike Volsung's head. But as the dragonborn brought his greatsword down. Volsung sent an icy spear straight into his abdomen. His sword fell the the ground with a metallic clang, and the draugr looked to re-engage their pursuit. The dragon priest gave a throaty growl as he pointed to the fallen hero. "Dir nu Dovahkiin!"

His wife just managed to get the door open, and the dragonborn crawled inside with respectable haste. Draugr coming from every angle, she quickly pulled him inside and slammed the heavy iron door behind them. As she lit a torch on the wall of their pitch black room with magic, the dragonborn, laying there, coughing blood. Attempted to pull the ice out of his stomach to no avail. He pulled off his helmet and threw it to the ground. Through gurgled breath, he looked to his wife. "H- Hedviga, my wife, listen to me." She looked at her fallen husband and knew what he was suggesting.

He held her hand in his bloody fingers and said "You have the black soul gem? and the enchanted dagger?" She held in one hand, a soul gem, black as night. In her other hand, a simple iron dagger, specially enchanted to harvest souls. The dragonborn looked down at his wounds, Then back at his wife. "Do it quickly my love. I don't know how long I'll last, and you don't want to miss the opportunity." The dragonborn shut his eyes and lowered his head. His wife looked down at his mangled carcass, and knew it had to be done.

She knelt down next to her brave husband, removed what little armor remained on his torso, and then, after a farewell kiss on the cheek, She thrust the dagger into his heart. Magical energy swarmed around her, as the black soul gem began to glow a purple light. The swirling purple vortex eventually focused and found its way into the soul gem, which began to heat up due to the power of the soul going into it. The new widow stood up and looked to a dark tunnel that failed to be illuminated by the dim torch on the wall sconce. She removed the torch, and began to silently venture into the dark tunnel.

The tunnel stretched on, for what felt like forever, occasionally changing direction, but eventually stairs gave way to ascension, as Hedviga was nearing the surface. Or at least a hole in the cave to let sunlight through. More draugr were present in the wide open cave, and Hedviga wouldn't have been traveling with her husband if she couldn't defend herself. even so, the draugr hadn't noticed her. She extinguished the torch and attempted to creep slowly around the draugr and avoid a confrontation. She wasn't so lucky as one of them noticed her and gave a growl of alarm for the others.

There were five draugr in total, four brandishing melee weapons, and one of them standing far back with a bow. Hedviga was prepared for melee attackers and had a fire wall spell for just such a purpose. She put her dagger away and sprayed the fire all over the floor in front of the draugr. Oblivious to the danger fire posed, they mindlessly walked through, as the flames licked at their dried skin. Hedviga was distracted enough by the fire, that she hadn't noticed the fifth draugr drawing an arrow. She was taking in her fine work, when an ancient nordic arrow landed squarely in her shoulder, with a grimace she flung a firebolt with her other arm. Her firebolt hit the fifth draugr in the face and he dropped without a sound.

Hedviga reached up to feel the puncture wound on her shoulder. and flinched at the stabbing pain. She knew only a basic healing spell, and would need a professional healer to remove the arrow and dress her wound. after her basic healing, she continued on through the dungeon. Hedviga passed by a few empty caves she finally saw a large opening in the wall of one. She exited the cave to be greeted by four men in black robes kneeling over a skeleton. They took a look at her, a woman holding her shoulder with an arrow sticking out of it, they needed a body, she was easy pickings.

The men began to walk toward her, and she noticed a green skull pattern on their robes, These were necromancers. One of them smiled and withdrew a dagger. He spoke an a common morrowind accent. "We don't want this to be messy, just don't fight." Hedviga raised her arm at one of the approaching necromancers and blasted him in the face with whatever spell she could muster. He recoiled and jerked violently as she shocked him with chaotic electricity. The other three were running now and the dunmer lunged for her and she, not so much dodged, as much as he missed her. The second one didn't and gave her a deep cut on her back.

Hedviga was recoiling in pain from the slice to her back and didn't notice the third necromancer blast her with icy air. She felt her joints go stiff, and her feet go numb, as she collapsed to the ground. One of the necromancers kicked her on the side and she flipped over onto her back. Staring into the white sky, she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. and looked down to see the dunmer had stabbed her. Hedviga was fading and the sky was getting blurry.

The necromancer's spoke with one another."What should we do with her?" one said a nordic voice. "Leave her there, bodies don't go anywhere."

Weather it was divine intervention or what, Hedviga opened her eyes again to see the dunmer kneeling over her, she quickly reached up and grabbed his collar. He looked scared. She did not do anything violent, but rather removed the black soul gem the dragonborn's soul was stored in from her satchel. Hedviga spoke in a labored voice to the necromancer. "You, You are now the only one who can stop Alduin." The dunmer looked confused. "This soul gem contains the soul of the dragonborn. Please I beg of you, fulfill my final wish and I may die peacefully. Put this soul into a body, the dragonborn will live on in death." Hedviga's grip loosened on the necromancer's collar and she lay still in the snow, The black soul gem still in her loosened hand. The necrmancer held his neck and looked around as if he'd seen a ghost. before finally taking the soul gem out of the deceased woman's hand.


	2. Risen Hero

You people call me Dragonborn, or Dovahkiin, either works for me, as I do not remember ever having a name. I write this from a cold dark cave in northern skyrim. I may not reside in any town or city in skyrim, my visage would horrify all, from the most hardened soldier, to the young children. I am, surprised my fingers are articulated enough to write to be honest. I should explain myself thoroughly though, just in the case that an adventurer wanders into this cave years from now, long after I have lost my mind. I am the dragonborn, as far as I can tell. Or at least I have their soul.

Some writing advice I was once told, stated that you should always write about the most important point in a person's life. In my case, that would be when I got bucked off the back of a horse fifty years ago and died in the snow. No my finest hour was one that took place after my own death. When a rogue necromancer brought life to my inert skeleton. The dunmer man was given a black soul gem by a dying woman, and with her dying wish she wanted skyrim to be saved. This is the story of how I saved it.

I see nothing but blackness, many do not know this, but a nord who dies dishonorably never even goes to the gates of sovengarde, their spirit remains on nirn indefinitely. And that was to be my fate. Until I felt a rush of vitality to my cracked and withered bones. Immediately the cracks mended themselves and magical energy filled my bones. I felt my eyesight return to this world and I was staring into a snowy sky.

I'm standing then in the snow, but cannot move, I am a statue. A dark elf man walks up in front of me wearing a black robe with a green skull motif on its front. "Will this one work? I'm running out of bodies to use." I cannot move my neck to look at the man, but after a bit of effort I hear a grinding sound and my jaw falls open, and I give a great screech of exertion. "Well I have never tried this kind of resurrection before. Vocals work fine." He backed away and held his grey hands up and motioned for me to go with him, and after a few seconds of straining, my hip and knee joints begin to work and I walk clumsily after the man.

Two other men walked up and one of them began laughing at me. "Give it up Neruthan, it's stumbling like a child." Neruthan the necromancer looked at the other necromancer and said in an agitated voice. "This is no mere resurrecting you fool. He has the spirit of the dragonborn himself." more laughter soon followed from the other two men as I stumbled and fell into the snow. The other two necromancers are walking away and one was nudging the other in the ribs with his elbow. "Ol' Neruthan's finally lost his soul gems if you know what I mean."

I am up on one knee now and feel the dark elf helping me up. "Can you understand me? Dragonborn?" In an attempt to reply to him, my jaw opened up and I gave a Coarse growling response. "Well at least you can hear me, I would assume your acute vocals and motor functions will come back in time." My head is spinning, amagine sleeping peacefully for fifty years and finally being rudely awoken. My arms were now grinding into motion like rusty dwemer machinations being turned on after a years of disuse.

Human rationale came to my head and I swiftly covered my lack of private parts with my bony hands. Neruthan had a hearty chuckle at that and started speaking. "I attempted to bring you back with as much humanity as a skeleton possibly could have, you have human fears, human loves, human thoughts in general. I am looking at the elf, attempting to cover something that isn't there. Before he looks in his knapsack and throws out a ragged pair of burlap trousers.

In attempting to put the trousers on, my foot got caught on a hole and I stumbled and fell into the snow again. I would assume it was a rather humorous scene, watching me attempt to get clothed. But it was anything but enjoyable on my end. Eventually that got sorted out and I stood up, quicker than I had before. My feet were bare, but I was not cold. Neruthan looks at the confused skeleton before him "You will not feel pain or pleasure, there was no way to preserve the nerves of a skeleton." I need to talk to him, let him know that his spell worked. I opened my jaw and nothing came out but a slightly less coarse but equally unintelligible garbled thank you. Neruthan was walking away now and I swiftly followed him to the little stone alcove where the other two necromancers were attempting to warm their hands by a fire.

"Gentlemen, I give you, the dragonborn, savior a skyrim." The other two were no longer worried about their hands and were soon rolling on the floor in laughter. "You dressed it you haggard old fool?" the other one was leaning on the wall for support. "You don't need to conserve the things decency, just give it an axe and point it in the right direction." one of the men grabs a large metal two headed battle-axe leaning on the wall and tosses it my way.

I quickly move and the battle-axe sails past me and lands in the snow. "Useless, see Neruthan. Can't even catch an axe like the other skeleton we rose up." I attempt to stumble over to the necromancers and look of them in they eye. I really needed to speak now, opening my jaw and make yet another attempt to speak. I say in a rough gravely voice, "Drag...on...boooorn." More laughter soon followed and one of the necromancers spoke mockingly "So the damned thing can speak, how is that going to help us when the vigilants beat down our doors?!"

Almost on queue a hammer broke through the wooden door behind us and voices could be heard outside. "Come out necromancers, Stendarr may show mercy for you, but we will not!" The three necromancers and I run quickly out of the small room and into the snowy field where five other skeletons wait, weapons in hand. A necromancer spoke, "Ok everyone, the vigil are here, you know the drill." I was standing there staring as the five other skeletons mindlessly ran into the small room we had just ran from and readied their weapons.

I felt a weight in my hands as one of them carefully put the battle-axe I had missed into my hands. "You too, useless, get in there." and after a shove I was going toward the loudly banging door with the other skeletons. I turned back to Neruthan, who was readying an ice spike for when the vigil burst through the door. Soon, they burst through with the one at the head, casting a guardian circle, making the other skeletons scatter. "There are a lot of them," one of the necromancers said before a hammer found its mark on his skull and he fell limp to the ground instantly.

I was running from the vigil, axe still in hand when the second necromancer ran past me blasting a cold spell. He soon fell to a vigilants hammer hitting him in the stomach. Blood splattered on the snow, and howls of pain were heard from the fallen necromancer. Neruthan grabbed my shoulder and pulled me aside, he had large bloody wound on his chest. "Dragonborn, you are far more important to the world, I have not bound you to me, you are free." I stood there, confused over what he was telling me. "Run dragonborn. I will cover your escape." With a simple nod, I turned and ran as fast as my new-reborn legs could carry me. Neruthan turned and focused on the vigil as I ran.


	3. Dawnstar

I was running, in the distance I could hear the faint sounds of bones breaking and screaming. The snow was getting deeper and was up to my knees now. I was still moving though, snow was packed in between my lower leg bones. I did not feel cold, however I didn't feel warm either, just neutral. The clashing of steel was getting quieter and quieter as I got further away, soon I could only hear the unforgiving wind that would have claimed the life of anything that wasn't already dead.

The snow, while deep, was fresh and offered little resistance as I trudged through, dragging my axe behind. I was unsure of what I would do next, civilization was the logical destination, if only I knew then how they would react once I arrived. Eventually the snow gave way to tundra that was thankfully easier to walk in. and I soon saw a town in the distance. My knowledge of skyrim geography had faded through the years on account of not living in it.

I wandered into the town and looked around, Skyrim had changed since I had last seen it, but I vaguely recognized the mining port town of Dawnstar. As I was taking in the views though I heard gasps of fear, and screams of surprise from human voices. I looked toward where the gasps were coming from and saw a man holding a shovel, paused mid-smelt. A child holding a steaming pot of what looked like stew. And a woman reading a piece of paper, drawing out a long word as she stared astonished in my direction.

Soon their paralysis broke and they were fleeing along the shore toward a bulky looking man holding a two-handed hammer. He rushed toward me as I dropped my axe into the snow and attempted to run in the opposite direction. My eventual path was blocked by a tall woman holding a mace and shield combo. She held her shield up and I couldn't stop fast enough, she hit me over the head with her shield and, dazed, I careened the way I had come, flailing my arms.

The hammer wielding man stopped just short of running into me and grabbed one of my arms. They were yelling and the woman swung her mace downward, severing the arm that the man was holding without any pain, it simply popped off. She soon had my other arm in hand and pushed me face first into the snow. I felt her foot on the side of my head. And without mercy, my other arm was ripped clean off as well.

The man soon had me by the neck. And was holding me, armless, a good two feet off the ground. He was yelling, covering my face in a combination of spittle and mead. "So the necromancer's want to send their minions after Dawnstar now! Do they!?" I opened my jaw in an attempt to calm him. At first nothing came out but a rough whispered "Nooo…" then after trying a little harder, something came over me and I shouted, clear as day "Wuld!" The large man grunted in reply as I quickly bolted over him, my legs kicking his helmet off.

My quick burst of speed disoriented me and I stood there stumbling around in the gravelly sand. By the time I came to my senses, I saw the man being helped up by the woman. The area right below his nose covered in a glistening crimson mask. The woman was now holding my arms in her off hand, and walking menacingly toward me, brandishing a mace in her other hand.

I needed to speak now, tell them I meant no harm. I wasn't even sure If I could be killed, but I wasn't about to test my limits. I was given a second chance in this world, I was going to use it well. My jaw hung open and after some labor, a scratchy growling voice came out "Stop!" I said. "Dragonborn" came out in the same kind of voice. The woman had stopped, staring at me with an eyebrow raised quizzically. She turned back to the man, attempting to clean his face up with a pale blue rag, "Did that thing just talk?" I spoke again, "Dead, dragonborn is dead." She looked angry once again, "Did you kill him skeleton?!"

I shook my head swiftly in the universal gesture of "no" She dropped my arms in the gravel and was staring at me, jaw hanging open. Thinking of the best way to explain myself. I spoke again "I, have, dragonborn soul…" The woman had taken her helmet off, revealing long blonde hair "You're wrong, the dragonborn is a nord man, he lives in a house in Falkreath" I had to concede that I didn't know how the dragonborn died, I only knew what Neruthan had told me. But I had shouted, it was hard enough for a living being to do that.

Her face grew hard for a moment. "The Jarl needs to see this. Grivjar, Grab the skeleton." with that, she bent down and picked up the arms that she had dropped. The large man behind her had gotten up, his rag covered in his own blood. He walked quickly over to me and grabbed my by the back of my neck. They were parading me through town like some kind of trophy, but I had no power to stop them.

After going up a somewhat steep hill, and past another mine. We stopped at a very tall wooden house. The two guards stationed outside of the house were staring at me like I had committed the worst crime imaginable. And only unlocked the door after some coaxing from the female guard. Inside an old and frail man slumped on a throne at the far side of a large fire. A beefy man stood behind him, wearing the same kind of armor as my two escorts.

The old man stood up and exchanged some words with the woman, taking occasional sidelong glances at me and sneering. "Sir, this skeleton claims that the dragonborn is dead, and it has his soul." The old man dismissed the woman and took a look at me. If I had facial muscles, I would have smiled, or at least looked apologetic, but as it stands I could only stare at the man, unblinking, with blue spheres instead of eyes.

The old man looked straight into my eyes and spoke after a few seconds, "You look like a skeleton. But my guard tells me you didn't act like one. You showed fear, and did not attack either of them outright." The old man looks up at the second guard, holding his nose with his rag. "Get yourself to the barracks Grivjar, Clean up there." He obliges and I hear the door slam shut.

The old man turns his attention back to me. The armless wretch, kneeling in his throne room. "Gretta also tells me that you shouted to injure Grivjar. Is this true?" I nod in response, and speak. "Did not, try to..." The old man is taken aback slightly by my ability to basically speak. He turns to a room to the right "Madena, you should look at this one!" I turn the same direction and see a woman in blue robes walking out of the room.

She kneels next to me and is examining my ribs, "Necromancy here, but He's not bound to any one necromancer. Strange if a necromancer doesn't bind their resurrection it's liable to turn on them soon after being brought back." I spoke to her, "unbound…" She recoils suddenly at my ability to speak. "That's even more unusual for a skeleton, they normally can only speak in growls. Skald this is an odd one, the necromancer who brought this one back put an uncanny amount of work into it."

The old man, who I can assume is Skald, turns my head toward him. " My guards reported that you shouted, can you demonstrate for me?" I was unsure how I used the shout I did earlier, but after Skald and Madena had moved out of the way, I stood up. And tried to remember what I had yelled earlier to do the quick dash forward. I was attempting to say the same word but it only came out as a quiet guttural "Wuld..." after a few more attempts I heard Skald behind me yelling "Do the damned shout already!" After a few more failed attempts I lifted my head and yelled as loud as my old body could manage. "Wuld!" on command and before Skald was finished his sentence, I flew forward and tripped on one of the steps that lead up to the throne.

Planting my face on the stone floor and skidding a good two feet, I got up immediately after and turned back to Skald. He was stifling a laugh at my trip, and soon regained composure. "Jod, Ulfric Stormcloak needs to see this. He would be interested in anything to do with shouting. Prepare a carriage to Windhelm right away." I walked back toward the old man and he took my arms away from the guard who had severed them. "Madena, please help the damned thing put its arms back on. And then in the morning put it on the carriage." Madena takes my arms out of his hands and says slightly dismissively. "It will be done my jarl."

Later on that day, I was sitting in a small cramped room with Madena. She was trying to figure out how to put my arms back into their sockets. And a few minutes later, was attempting to force the ball back into the socket. Eventually a loud pop resonated throughout the house and my arm was back where it belonged. With some effort, I could move it again as well. The same process soon followed with my other arm and I could move it again as well.

Madena left the room without a word and slammed the door shut, I heard a click meaning she had locked me in. I sit on a wooden chair and try to take stock of the situation. I had shouted twice, and was going to windhelm, I remember the old city, it has been there forever. I layed down on the floor and attempted to sleep, but unable to close my eyes, I eventually decided that if a skeleton needs sleep that I will pass out eventually.

The next morning I was loaded into a carriage and along with two dawnstar guards, we set off for windhelm.


	4. Windhelm

The two dawnstar guards that had come with me had long since fallen asleep. The man driving the wagon seemed rather sociable when they were awake, but now that I was the only conscious one sitting in the back, he didn't seem to feel like chatting. I was keeping quiet and taking in the surroundings, mostly snow, passing by the occasional fort. I was trying to remember if skyrim consisted entirely of snow or if there are warmer parts.

I was drably watching the surrounding until we rode past a rather magnificent lake, after a few seconds, and remembering it's name, I crawled over to the other side of the carriage and pointed at it, yelling out "Yorgrim." The driver of the carriage leaned back and in a surprised voice, he said "Aye, you recognize it? Pride and glory of the pale." I sat back down and looked around some more. The carriage driver spoke again. "If you remember Lake Yorgrim, you must also remember that we're close to our destination, Windhelm." He pointed forward and I looked in the general direction of his finger.

Sure enough, the sight I saw was magnificent. A wonderous stone bridge stretched over the river leading from the lake I had spotted only moments before. At the end of the bridge was a hulking citadel of a city. Built of stone and wood, the city of Windhelm was as grand as the first time I had ever seen it. As I knelt there over the driver's shoulder, gaping, he turned his head away in disgust from me. After calming myself and sitting back down in the carriage, I spoke again to the man. "What, date, is it?" He looks back again and the sneer on his face is visible.

After a few seconds, he speaks, "two-hundred-and-first year of the fourth era. currently it is the fifteenth of morning star." I say thank you and sit across from the sleeping guards again. Some time passes between his next words as he has to wake up the guards. "Aye louts, wake up we're here." The guards groggily sit up and with a start realize that I am no longer sitting in between them. The look over at me sitting on the opposite side of the carriage and, after looking at eachother, confused quietly switched sides and sat either side of me.

The two dawnstar guards begin walking off the carriage with me in tow. After we paid the driver, I felt something grab at my arm, and turned around to see the driver. He looked me dead in the eye and his eyes shown only fear, he said quietly. "Good luck killing the dragons." I would have thought he was being sarcastic, but the tone in his voice said he was being genuine. The guards pulled me away before I could think about it any longer. We turned around and began heading across the bridge.

I realize then that they were leading me like a prisoner, one of my arms in each of their hands, there were two crucial differences between myself and a prisoner however. One, I was walking under my own power, they were not dragging me. And two, my hands were not tied together to prevent escape. Even then, I was emaciated, compared only to the standard than an emaciated person mould hold me to. We walked past guards who could only look at me, some with fear in their eyes, and some with a simple curiosity.

We stopped at the gates, where a guard in blue was talking to one of my escorts, while the other gate guard looked at me with contempt. "Welcome to windhelm, state your business here." My guard looked at me and replied, "we need to see the Jarl right away, it's crucial." The guard took a look at me and scoffed "Did Wuunferth let one of his _experiments_ out again?" The guard behind him cracked a smile. My guard, unflinching said coldly "No, this skeleton claims to have the soul of the dragonborn, it demonstrated a shout in dawnstar, and Skald the Elder thought it necessary for Ulfric Stormcloak to see the shouts firsthand, to what end, I don't know."

The windhelm guard held his gut in a hysterical gesture, while the other gate guard looked ready to keel over in laughter. "That's a great tale, by Talos I'll be telling it in the barracks for months. Seriously though, why do you need to see Jarl Ulfric, true high king of skyrim?" The dawnstar guard held her forehead in her palm now, and my other escort was staring dead eyed into the windhelm guard's face. The other windhelm guard, still laughing slightly, was able to compose himself enough to speak again.

"I'll tell you what, I will tell Ulfric of your request, and he can decide for himself whether it's worth his time or not." My guards nod in agreement after looking at each-other uneasily. One of the windhelm guards backs up and pushes the gate open. "I would suggest getting some drink in you, the cold must have gone to your heads. One of my guards points his meaty hand at me and says, "what do we do with our delivery?" The windhelm guard focuses on me and smiles. "I think the boys in the barracks would like to meet it" My two escorts looked at each-other before smiling, and letting go of my arms.

I walked maybe three feet before the windhelm guards had me arm-in-arm. I watched the dawnstar guards vanish into a large central building that I assumed was the mead hall. I was soon brought into a large wooden building full of helmetless guards. Their wonderful song of merriment was soon broken by every set of eyes in the room locking on me. "Alright everyone, this skeleton is apparently the _dragonborn._ Show it that good ol' windhelm spirit that the dirty imperial dogs wouldn't dream of!" It took me ten seconds to notice that there was enough alcohol between every man and woman in the building to inebriate a mammoth til Evening Star, but the one guard's little speech elicited an uproarious reply from everyone.

I was soon being tossed from person to person, and through drunken slurs and collapsing nords, I heard a song about the dragonborn. They seemed to be chanting "Our hero *hic* our hero *hic* claims a warrior's Heeaart…" their song was frequently cut short a few verses in by laughter, yelling, and falling. A few hours passed and my hands were soon drenched in ale,and one of my collarbones was being used as a makeshift corkscrew.

I was relieved when a thankfully sober guard walked in, retrieved my collarbone, and said he was there to bring me to Ulfric. I thank the man vigorously as he pulls me out of the den of inebriation. He replies ruggedly "shut up ghoul." I do and soon I was being walked up to a massive palace of stone. I assumed this was where Ulfric lived, but I was out of the loop on world politics and had little idea of who Ulfric Stormcloak was.

The man was draped on a giant stone throne at the end of a long wooden table, fit for feasting. His voice resonated through the acoustic hall, and could be heard several seconds after he finished speaking. He said "Who is this that you bring to my ha-" he pauses upon seeing me. After collecting himself for a moment he looked at me again. "I assumed my guards had to much to drink at the front gate and hallucinated you. I am a busy man, but the dragonborn was a good friend. If you have his soul, that means he has perished." The guard lets go of my arm and walks back toward the door the the palace.

Ulfric sits up from his throne and walks toward me. "They tell me you can shout. Just like he could. If you can demonstrate for me. It confirms my worst fear. However if you cannot, I will slaughter you where you stand, undead monster." without warning, he begins shouting at me repeatedly, "Fus! Fus! Fus!" The shouting was pushing me back, food from the table was flying from the force, and the guards stood there and watched.

Eventually I was down on one knee, Ulfric was still shouting my knees buckling through the with of his shouts. he soon had me down on my hands and knees from the force. Ulfric broke the shouting barrage for a second, but a second was all I needed, in that second I was able to look up and shout. My voice like rough sand reverberated through the hall "Fus… Ro!" Ulfric was pushed back now by my shout and backed into his throne.

Ulfric Stormcloak shakes hair out of his face and regains his royal composure. "So it is as I feared." he turned toward the large man with the bearskin cloak behind him and said "Galmar, prepare a memorial service for the dragonborn... and leave me with the skeleton." The large man nods and walks off. Ulfric turns back to me and speaks. "Well, as long as you are dragonborn." He held out his hand. " You may call me Ulfric." I hesitate before taking his hand in mine.

Ulfric lets go of my hand and speaks behind me to a small man sat at the table. "Jorleif, tell Oengul War-Anvil that I personally request a basic set of armor." The small man replies, "It will be done my jarl." He walks off to another room. Ulfric looks back at me. "What shall I call you?" I hadn't really thought about that, Attempting to remember my name before I died, nothing came to mind. I suppose that I should be referred to as what everyone was calling me anyway. I look at Ulfric sitting on his throne. Open my jaw and say "Dragon… Born."


	5. The road to Ivarstead

Jarl Ulfric had requested armor to be made, I wasn't sure if he meant it for me, or Ulfric just requests a set of armor whenever he's bored. Either way, Ulfric seemed to accept the situation better than anyone else had, and he had even shook my hand. He had sent me to a single room in one of many long maze-like hallways that stretched throughout the palace of kings. I could hear the northern wind blowing against the hardened stone walls, and wondered what it is I was actually supposed to do.

I knew that there was some prophecy, the tale of the dragonborn was told frequently when I was alive, and now I had to become that legend. As far as I knew, the dragonborn was a mortal with the soul of a dragon, they can absorb the soul of a dragon, and kill it for good. That thought struck me, if there is a definitive dragonborn? Does that mean that the dragons have returned?

I sat in my room contemplating this for several hours, if the dragons came back, and I have the power to kill them, then it would be immoral to not kill them, I remember researching the great dragon war many years ago, that kind of slaughter should be avoided at all costs. How do you even kill a dragon? Does it have weak points? Are they capable of killing me? How would I ever stop Alduin the world eater himself?

My thoughts were broken when a guard unlocked and forced their way through the heavy wooden door, he was here to retrieve me. After being lead back into the throne room where Ulfric sat, I greeted him with a throaty hello. Ulfric smiled slightly at my attempt at speaking. "Hello dragonborn, please, sit." I looked around for a chair and found one split off from the table and facing Ulfric. After sitting down, Ulfric began to speak.

"Horgir, bring the armor to me." a guard walked to Ulfric holding a pile of leather that I assumed was armor. "Now, dragonborn, I have had armor made for you. All I can do now is point you in the right direction, so that is what I shall do." He tosses the leather armor toward me and continues speaking. "The first place you should go is High Hrothgar, to see the greybeards. They chose me years ago to learn the way of the voice, and they are always willing to meet the dragonborn."

Ulfric unlatches a bag from his belt and throws it onto the floor in front of me. "I am in the middle of fighting a war here, so I apologise. That armor and this gold are the only ways I can help you." I would suggest using the gold to buy a weapon of your choice from Oengul War-Anvil." I struggle for a moment before managing to get the armor on.

It seemed to be a long leather lower portion, with a sort of harness for the chest that I do not even bother trying to put on. Picking up the bag of gold from the ground. I look back up at Ulfric and say "Thank you." He puts his hand up and turns his head to Galmar. "Thanks are not necessary, go, now. Every moment you spend gawking is a moment the people of skyrim are at risk of being killed by dragons.

With that I turn around and walk out of the palace of kings. The snow was howling outside of the palace, and sight was limited, still, people wandered through town and went about their lives. Not oblivious to the snow, just ignoring it. I made my way around town and after a little wandering I came about a forge, with a man I assumed was Oengul hammering some metal on the anvil.

He looked up for a split second to see who it was and the continued hammering. "What do you want skeleton?" He said curtly, not sounding frustrated, just overworked. I hold the bag of gold in front of him and he points at several weapons leaning on the wall next to him. "Pick one, I can tell you about each one if you'd like. Laying in a row, greatsword, warhammer, battleaxe, shortsword, dagger. I pick up the double headed battleaxe and it's weightless in my hands. "That one is good for doing the most damage possible, if you don't mind the extra weight. You can hit things behind you on the backswing.

The battleaxe seemed to be the one I wanted, I ask the man "How, Much." He tells me it's 500 gold pieces and I just leave the bag with him. I was near the windhelm gates and was ready to set out. I had little idea where Ivarstead was, but I thought as long as I follow the road signs, I should be fine. I cross the massive white river bridge and step onto the snowy path. My adventure had truly begun.

I started first going in the direction one of the signs pointed to, Riften, I just wanted to get out of the snow, I had seen enough snow to last three lifetimes. Soon my walking in the fresh snow gave way to hard white earth. The occasional fissure in the ground let steam exit from beneath the earth, colorful Pools of water dotted the landscape. This land was alien compared to where Windhelm stood.

My basking in the glory of this land was cut short by a loud roar overhead. I look up and the sun is soon blotted out by a massive black shadow flying over me. I drew my axe in preparation for whatever it was but I soon heard a voice. "Ful, losei dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi." I looked in the direction of the voice in confusion. Only to see a massive black dragon staring back at me.

The dragon spoke again, "You do not even know our tongue, do you? Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah." I looked defiantly at the dragon and spoke. "Who, are you?" The dragon gave a deep cruel laugh before speaking again. "I am Alduin, son of Akatosh, and eater of worlds." This was him, the ancient evil I must slay to save skyrim. He spoke once more. "Know this dovahkiin, you may try and stop my feast, and like the previous dovahkiin, you will fail." Alduin flew off, leaving me with a threat in my ears, and a cold sinking feeling in my heart.

I soon came upon a massive cliff blocking the hot springs from reaching up higher. Or perhaps the underground activity had caused this rift in the ground. Anyway, the road I was walking on winded up the steep cliff in a worrying way. How many died to build this road up a cliff? No matter I set off trying to climb the tight winding road up the rift.

I happened upon a cave off the side of the road, It was dark inside and I could hear nothing. I was about to go on, when I heard a roar come from within the cave. After peering inside again, I saw a large dark shape moving toward me. The dark shape lunged at me and I soon realized that it was a relatively large bear, I couldn't remember if bears are aggressive normally, what kind of problem would this one have with me?

I backed up quickly enough and the bear landed on the ground where I had been standing, it began walking toward me as I tried to calm it down. The bear reared up on its hind legs and roared at me, it dropped down and slashed at me with it's claws. I realize that I cannot reason with it, as it's frenzied. But in the time it took me to pull my axe out, the bear had grabbed one of my legs in it's massive jaws.

The bear was pulling at my leg, attempting to sever the limb, but it was of little use. While the bear was busying itself with my leg, I reared up on my one remaining leg and quickly brought my axe down on the bears head. The resistance that the bear's skull offered was a little worrying. I had thought it would be more. But after a few reflexive twitches, the bear lay still, with my leg in its wide open jaws.

After using the leather harness I had not worn to wipe bear saliva off of my leg, I continued on my way to Ivarstead. The trip from this point onward was largely uneventful, but the rift made for lovely scenery. I held out my hand as orange petals rained from the trees above. I had been so busy admiring the scenery that I had not noticed I had come upon Ivarstead.

I shall not enter the town, I had learned that people will either attack me or run in fear based on my appearance, despite my attempting to save them. Night was falling and I could see the stairs leading up the throat of the world from my vantage point. Once it was dark, I could quietly sneak up the stairs without alerting anyone.

It was soon dark, and I jumped into the river between myself and Ivarstead. I was not sure what I was expecting, but weighed down by a battleaxe, several pounds of leather, and my lack of lungs or a body mass in general meant I sunk quickly in the water and landed feet first on the bottom. I began walking on the riverbed toward the bank. Lifting my head out of the water I looked around, nobody was looking my direction, Good.

I quickly made my way through the town in a crouched position it was quiet as can be, only the occasional sound came from a farm animal. Once I was at the steps, I began climbing them. My first step in the way of the voice.


	6. High Hrothgar

Icy winds from the upper slopes of the throat of the world blew through my ribcage and I could hear the distant howling gales on the other side of the mountain. I remember hearing stories about the greybeards, as far as I know they were reclusive hermits who practiced the way of the voice on top of this mountain. We were taught that they refused access to their home to just about everybody. Ulfric seemed to be a trustworthy man, and I don't think that he would steer me wrong.

Deep in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed deep growling coming from up ahead, and when I looked up, I was face to face with a seven foot troll, it's fur as white as the snow it walked. I was able to back away by the time the creature swung it massive hooked claws at me. It kept on swinging clumsily in the hopes that I may walk into its claws. I readied my battle-axe and began sizing the troll up for a precise swing. While I was spending time preparing my swing, the white beast lunged forward, it's maw stretched outward in a vicious bite.

Thinking quickly I hold the shaft of my axe in a defensive position and the trolls open mouth bites right into the hardwood of my weapon. I push on the shaft of my axe with all my might and the troll falls onto the ground with a thud. I quickly regain my composure, and after stomping on the monster's chest, my axe comes down to sever it's arm in one clean blow. Dark red blood sprayed from the trolls wound and painted the snow a gruesome scarlet.

The troll used its other arm to grab my leg and throw me off of it. I landed in the snow and when I looked back toward the creature, it was quickly retreating from the battle holding its fresh wound. It had a very human-like gait. I thought about going after it, but thought better of it when I remember my mission, I needn't get sidetracked. After trekking for a few more minutes, I came upon a stone monastery built into the side of the mountain. I knew this was High Hrothgar, if only because I couldn't imagine anyone else wanting to live up here.

I came upon one of two heavy metal doors, and after a bit of effort, the opened with a quiet but long squeak. The wide open stone structure was utterly silent save for my own footsteps. There was light casting down from a hole in the ceiling to illuminate a central room. I stood in the light for a few minutes and after a while I heard a voice behind me. "Oh Dragonborn, what are you doing here?."

I turn to see an old man with a knotted beard and grey robes slowly lighting candles as he makes his way toward me. "We knew of the dragonborn's demise the moment it happened, and master Wulfgar received a message from Kyne, telling him it would be alright." I made my way toward the old man and he speaks again. "If it is Kynareth's destiny for your spirit to slay Alduin, then no matter how many dragon priests you meet your end to, she will make sure your spirit survives."

I did not remember ever meeting the greybeards, but this man seemed to remember me. I asked "Who are you?" he looked up from his candles and smiled. "I guess a transfer of spirit is not a transfer of memory, I am master Arngeir, spokesperson of the greybeards. Sit dragonborn, I will tell you of your past life."

Arngeir directs me to a stone table obscured in shadow and only lit sparingly with a single candle in the center. "Your soul belonged to a nord man before you named Halbjorn. Months ago, we felt the tremor of a dragon being slain, and it's soul being destroyed. In that moment Myself and my three brothers called out to he who had slain the dragon, Dovahkiin." I silently stared at Arngeir and listened intently as he slowly took a sip from a metal tankard.

"A few weeks later, he came to this very enclosure to respond to our summons." He held a metal pitcher and asked if I wanted anything to drink, I politely declined and he continued. "Halbjorn was a tall man, and well muscled too, striking red hair and a long beard to match." Arngeir put his palm to his head as if remembering something painful. "His one downfall was arrogance however, he cared only for mastering the way of the voice so he could gain power over others."

"Halbjorn fell in with a bad crowd, a band of akaviri warriors who specialize in meddling with our affairs." Arngeir stands up and turns away from me. "Halbjorn left us for weeks, yet before that, he had been here practicing his thu'um constantly. When he finally returned, he was, different, than before. He wanted badly to meet our leader, the great Paarthunax. We trusted him, we were fools."

I quietly ask what happened, and who Paarthurnax is. "Paarthurnax was the true leader of the greybeards, and then Halbjorn the dragonborn slew him without mercy." Arngeir turned back to me now, his face twisted in anguish. "You! Dragonborn! You slayed Paarthurnax! Why… Some, ill-gotten notion of him needing to pay for his past crimes?!" Arngeir was yelling in complete anger and heartbreak. "We trusted you, and you betrayed us!"

As soon as Arngeir finished his sentence, his own name echoed through the halls of High Hrothgar. "AAARN-GEEEEIIR!" the weathered old man sat down again, and put his hands to his face. After a long sigh, he spoke again. "I apologise, dragonborn, You had no part in Paarthurnax's death, It is wrong to blame you for something you did in a past life. Master Borri simply needed to remind me of that."

After collecting himself, Arngeir looked at me again. "Now then, we never called you here. Who sent you?" I reply that Ulfric Stormcloak sent me, and the old man's face again twists into less a face of anger, more a face of sadness. "Yes, Ulfric used to train his voice here, but like Halbjorn was brash, and impatient. Ulfric left us to fight in one of those petty wars several years ago. And he has not returned since." I lower my head out of respect for Arngeir's apparent sadness.

After a few minutes Arngeir stood up and spoke again "well, your case has never happened before to any other dragonborn, and I am curious about how your shouting was affected by your resurrection. Follow me Dragonborn." With that, he turns and walks down the cold stone hall. And I quickly stand up and follow him. We had come to a small snowy courtyard, with stone pillars all around, and a large metal gate that lead to nowhere. The scene was complete with the addition of a tall stone tower nearest a stone archway.

Arngeir stopped in the center of the courtyard, and was soon joined by three other greybeards. "Dovahkiin, let us taste your voice." I stood there in front of the four old men as cold mountain wind buffeted through my ribcage. Rearing back I attempted to remember a particular shout, the one I had done for Skald. I spoke, "What was that word that cause the dash? Weld? Wald? Uhhh Wuld?" on cue I flew forward in between the four greybeards, tripped on a jutting rock, and flew face first into a pile of snow.

I heard stifled snickering at my expense from behind me as I tried to pull myself out of the snow pile. The laughing stopped and I heard one of them shout. "Fus-ro-dah!" all the snow flew away and I fell flat on my face. I stood up and turned back around to the greybeards. They were composing themselves just in time, and Arngeir spoke again. "Well done Dragonborn, you already know the whirlwind sprint! Do you know all three words to that thu'um, or just Wuld?" I reply, "Uhh, what?" Arngeir walks over and helps me up from the ground. "There are three words to all known shouts. Wuld is the first word in whirlwind sprint. I will teach you the second word, nah." Arngeir turns around and a relatively quiet whisper of a shout echoes from his lips and into the ground "Nah."

After his shout the ground cracks and twists into fiery glowing runes. "Look to the ancient language of the dovah, Dragonborn." with that, Arngeir motions me toward the rune and points my head at it. After starting the the foreign glowing language for a few seconds, something in my head seemed to click, and the word made sense to me as nah. One of the greybeards walks behind the out of place metal gate, and Arngeir spoke again. "We would like you to demonstrate the dragonborns renowned ability to comprehend the word of a shout years quicker than any other man." He walks me a fair distance from the gate. And then backs away, as if expecting me to know what to do next. I turn to him and ask, "So I just add nah, after I say wuld?" Arngeir tilts his head in confusion. "Usually, the dragonborn innately knows what to do in order to shout."

I turn back to the gate, and the greybeard standing beside it shouts something I have never heard. On command the gate swings open, and I just stand there. As quickly as it opens, it swings shut "Dragonborn, use the whirlwind sprint to charge through the gate that master Wulfgar opens." I nod, and Wulfgar shouts again. The gate opens up again, and this time I attempt to shout. "Wuld- Nah!" I flew a few meters farther than I had with the single word, and easily cleared the gate. I turn to see the gate close immediately, and Wulfgar turns to me and takes a bow. I hear him faintly whisper, "Dovahkiin…" Arngeir approached us and spoke, "Your mastery of the thu'um, much like Halbjorn before you, astonishes me dragonborn. Your training dragonborn has just begun."


	7. New Day

A few more days worth of training my voice with the greybeards had passed. I could now shout on command without having to remember the words. The greybeards had sent me off to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, I asked how it got there, but Arngeir's patience with my curiosity was clearly wearing thin. I got a gift from all four of the greybeards before I left. Borri had given me an amulet of Talos, etched into the back was the symbol of the empire, a dragon.

Einarth gave me special greybeard ale, "Aged for millennia" said Arngeir. I think I will give it back to them when I make it back to High Hrothgar, as it was apparent long ago that I cannot ingest anything. Wulfgar gave me a spare set of greybeard robes, Arngeir mentioned that they had made these for Halbjorn, so they may be a little big. Arngeir finally had given me a shout, "Zun". He didn't specify to me what it did, but only that is was invaluable to a pacifistic greybeard.

The robes hung on me like a wet towel hangs on a ladder, but they covered me up for the most part, save for my face and hands. They were clearly expertly crafted with love. Would Arngeir want me to be a greybeard when I finish my quest? These thoughts race through my head as I make my way down the mountain. I left my hide armor in High Hrothgar, having had both arms severed, there didn't seem to be much point in trying to protect my body.

Deep in thought I once again failed to notice the frost troll. He made his presence known with an angry roar, One arm was small and pink, like a newborn baby. It was then that I realized that this was the same troll I had fought earlier. I pulled my axe out as the troll rushed toward me. I was prepared and swung my axe upward while simultaneously sidestepping its opposite hefty tree trunk of an arm.

Said arm was sent flying into the air, swiftly being carried away by the strong winds, blood again painted the snow. I slammed the haft of my axe into the monster's chest, pushing it to the ground. Reaching down I grabbed this trolls regenerating new arm, and ripped it clean off. It surprisingly took little effort, like pulling a carrot out of the ground. Growling in pain the creature rolled on its side, stood up on its considerably muscled legs and ran off once again. Something told me I would see this troll again.

I had grown accustomed to the greybeards uncaring attitude toward my skeletal appearance, and I casually walked across the stone bridge back into Ivarstead at the bottom of the mountain. A local farmer took one look at me and her scream was enough to rattle my skull. Soon a small group of guards in purple raiment were on me. I analyzed the situation and had an idea all before the guards even drew their weapons.

Sprinting as fast as I could back to the bridge, the bewildered guards in hot pursuit. I perched on the edge of the bridge. I thought it would be amusing to add a bit of theatrics to my escape. I pulled the axe off of my back and held it in one hand, turning around the the guards, I stretched both arms out in a spread eagle formation, and fell backwards into the water.

I sank instantly. Leaving nothing save for a small splash, if I could smile, I would be grinning ear to ear over their confusion. But it was time to go retrieve the horn of Jurgen Windcaller. I trudged the river, the greybeard robes and my battle axe weighing me down somewhat. After walking for a few minutes, I thought the coast was clear and I was free to get out of the damned water. I poked my head out on the bank cautiously and looked around, on one side of the river was a mountain and on the other side was a stone path, there wasn't a soul in sight.

This was the same path I had come in on, complete with a few foxes feasting on the bear I had slain a few days earlier. Taking note of the foxes salivation at my own bones, I quickly made my way down the rift. Only stopping to stare slack jawed at the awe inspiring landscape. I traveled this road for quite a while, eventually coming upon another river, and two tall stone towers on either side, a thin stone bridge connecting them.

Distracted by the magnificent stone towers, I hadn't noticed a thin woman sitting on a chair, leaning up against the tower. She sighed, picked up a small hatchet and began walking toward me. "You there, this here's a toll-" she stopped as I turned toward her, exposing my face. I was quite a ways taller than the wood elf girl, and she struggled to get words out. "You, you, you know… you, can just pass on through. No charge." I pleasantly reply thank you, and she cautiously backs away.

I make my way passed the tower and another bandit on top of the tower points a bow at me. "Filawen, why are you letting him go!?" I hear the woman behind me shout back up. "Just trust me on this one Jorik, let him go!" The archer shouted some insults back down at her, and she shouted some more back up. In their arguing I was just able to back away from them slowly.

I could still hear them arguing in the distance, judging by the tone of their voices, it was quite heated. Seeing a guard patrol in yellow garb making their way toward me, and knowing full well how guards reacted to a walking talking skeleton, I quickly jump into a shrub until the patrol passes. While i'm in the shrub, I notice the towering mountain that was the city of Whiterun. I had only seen the magnificence of whiterun once or twice in my life, and I sat on a rock awestruck for a few minutes.

This was sadly enough time for another patrol to approach my rock. I was still gawking at the city, and only noticed the soldiers when one of them rested his elbow on my shoulder. He was looking at the city too. "Aye lad, Whiterun's the jewel in skyrim's crown. Take it in as long as you can." I almost turned my head toward him, but thought better of it, in fact I turned my head away from him, and attempted to bury my hands in the folds of my greybeard robe. He spoke again "Come on lad, what's your name?" his tone of voice didn't have a whiff of inebriation to it, he just sounded rather jovial.

I responded "I am called Dragonborn sir, I can't remember my real name." he removed his helmet now, the second guard wandered up beside him. The second guard spoke. "Ye' look like a traveler, where are you headed?" I quietly respond "A nordic ruin known as Ustengrav." The jolly guard gave a hearty laugh "What kind of civil servants would we be if we didn't help you find your destination, Jerin, find this *Ustengrav* on your map."

How kind of these men, to help me find the horn. I could hear The second guard hold up a crumpled map to the first one. "Let's see here, straight northwest of Morthal, Aye you got a good days travel in your future sir." I lift my head slightly, listening in on the directions. "To get to Hjaalmarch, you need to stick on this road, across the plains, I would suggest you stop in Rorikstead for a good night's sleep and some food. You'll know you're in Drajkmyr when you start stepping in puddles."

I turn my head to see a blonde nord and his helmeted friend face first in a paper map. I pleasantly thank the two guards. The blonde one smiled and lifted his head. He began to reply "Oh it's no trouble at all sir-" his face fell to one of fear. "By Arkay! Skeleton!" he drew his sword. I raised my bony hands in a yielding gesture, getting down from the rock, I began slowly walking backwards in the direction the guards told me to Ustengrav was. The blonde one was hesitantly walking toward me, the fear showing in his eyes, his partner had joined him. I was backing away trying to remember anything the greybeards had taught me that would help.

They finally pinned me against another rock, the second guard had pulled out a hefty warhammer. My back to a wall, my jaw opened and I shouted what Arngeir had taught me earlier. "Zun!" As though some unseen force had intervened on my behalf, Both of the guards weapons were plucked from their hands, and sent sailing into the river. Realizing that I was no longer in any danger, I slowly lowered my arms and began walking toward the guards.

They were now backing up in fear. They were soon on their knees begging for me not to do anything to them. "Please, don't hurt us skeleton! We're just doing our jobs. I have a wife and kids back home, Please don't do this." I tilt my head to them, "If I were a mindless skeleton pawn to a necromancer, do you not think I would have attacked you yet?"

The two guards were staring at me wide eyed now. "I am Dragonborn, the reincarnated soul of a dragon most foul!" I lean in close to the guard without the helmet. "Spread the word, guard, the dragonborn has returned, not as a prideful slayer of dragons, like the previous incarnation. But as the savior skyrim needs." he nods silently, blue eyes shining brightly. I turn around from the two guards, continuing my journey.


	8. Seer

A misty swamp, I recognize it as Hjaalmarch. Dilapidated buildings, shrouded by the thick fog, I look at my own withered pale hands, and I wonder at how well I fit in here in Morthal. Decaying buildings, mysterious noises, eerie atmosphere. I was used to being here. And the lack of hustle and bustle was a normal occurrence. Making the jeers coming from behind me all the stranger. My reflection was broken by a loud roar heard overhead. I look up to see fire streak the sky. Setting a nearby building smoldering. Our weather is part of the reason I don't fear a dragon attack it's too wet here for anything to catch fire.

I calmly make my way to the town entrance I had no reason to wait for anything, but that has never stopped me before. In spite of my age, I sit down cross legged on the marshy earth, waiting for something. Ignoring the screams behind me, and the dragonfire raining down from above, I sat silently and waited, staring into the distance.

A few minutes of dragon attack later, and I finally see a shape in the mist. A human form, though stilted, as if not in true control. As the form gets closer I see a vibrant blue glow around its eyes, no the vibrant blue was its eyes. The stilted grey cloaked figure grew nearer. It was holding a large battle axe over its shoulder, its sleeve rolling down to reveal bone.

Now the being was directly in front of me. Axe in hand, I hear a violent crash behind me, followed by a roar. The skeleton readied his axe, and spun around a few times to build momentum, at the same time, the dragon behind me reared it's head and began breathing fire.

I awoke from my dream with a jump, rising up from the covers I think I disturbed Aslfur. These nightmarish visions were not uncommon for me, and it takes more than waking up with a start to wake my husband. This was no ordinary awakening however. I had the disturbing compulsion to leave and make my way to the location of my dream.

I didn't even bother getting dressed properly, just throwing an old robe on. stepping outside into the frigid midnight skyrim air. Soon enough I couldn't feel my toes anymore, not that it mattered, my deviant mind was elsewhere. Finding the spot in my vision and sitting on the frost covered ground. Morthal was utterly silent behind me, only the tiny splashes of fish in the water were audible.

A few more minutes followed of waiting for what? I don't know. I was soon joined by Aslfur. He draped a thick fur blanket over me, "My wife, you've never left the house in the middle of the night due to your visions. What did you see?" I turned to my loving husband, shivering slightly. "Oh Aslfur, if you could see my visions as well, it would make explaining them to you an easier task."

He put his arm around me trying to keep me warm, "Idgod, please come back to the hall, it's cold out here, And we can discuss your vision over food." I concede that it's a bit cold before standing up and making my way back to the longhouse. Aslfur fills two goblets with wine before sitting down at the table with me. "Tell me about your vision Idgrod." I sip from my wine, thinking to myself, I speak again to my husband. "No, not now Aslfur, for what I saw had enough gravitas that the whole town shall know. I will address them tomorrow."

Aslfur begins doing the predictable thing. "My wife, why don't you tell me what you want to tell them, and I will announce it tomorro-" I interrupt him, "Aslfur, our people do not trust me, their own jarl, not anymore, They think me mad, they think i am too old to lead. Addressing the town myself will help matters." Aslfur nods, I will gather the people of morthal tomorrow my jarl." I thank my husband and make my way back to bed, he soon follows.

Even with my midnight awakening, I still woke up early, after getting prepared for the day I sat on my throne until Aslfur and Gorm woke up. Impatiently, I stepped outside the longhouse to get some fresh air. The skies were grey, and a gentle mist hung in the air. A few civilians wandered around town, getting their morning stroll in. A thin layer of snow blanketed Hroggar's burnt down house. Lurbuk the orcish bard pleasantly greeted me. I tried to reply happily but it came out stilted and forced. He shrugged and made his way to the tavern.

Soon aslfur was behind me. "Should I go and gather the town Idgrod?" I reply. "Yes, I want to tell them about this vision as soon as possible." Aslfur walks up to a bell in the middle of town, the ringing resonates through the wooden buildings, and ripples the water. I stand at attention on the steps in front of my home. Awaiting the town gathering. Groggy townsfolk emerge from their homes, Lurbuk the bard and Jonna the innkeeper too.

Soon everyone in town was gathered before me and I realized that I hadn't spoke publicly in quite a long time. A few awkward seconds pass by as a cough at the back of the crowd breaks the silence. I shake my head of a few nagging thoughts and begin to address the crowd.

"People of morthal, last night I had a vision-" Benor the mercenary interrupts me, "More visions Idgrod? We've had enough of your insanity." I continue, ignoring the rude sellsword. "A dragon will come to Morthal. It will breath fire, and it will destr-" Jorgen the lumber hauler interrupts me now. "Is that why this old crone woke us up? To tell us that dragons are coming? We already know they are back-" I shout now, stifling Jorgen before he can say any more.

"Enough! I may be old. And none of you may understand my gift of second sight! But what I tell you next is of grave importance!" The few murmurs throughout the townsfolk are hushed at my sudden raise in volume. "Yes it is no news that dragons would attack Morthal! But I have foreseen our savior. A man of bone and magic, He wears a grey robe, and carries a great axe. He was unafraid of fighting the dragon."

The giggling started soon after I finished talking, Benor was at it again "You're telling us that a skeleton will come into town to save us?" Now the laughter was uproarious. These fools, normally my visions are only vague guesses of the future, but this one was something different entirely. I slowly get up and walk down to the crowd. Feeling Aslfur grab my arm, I ignore him and push my way through the crowd. Walking toward the spot where I had sat

In the dead of night.

I was entirely expecting the dragons roar overhead, I didn't even look up. I felt the heat of fire spread through the sky. The Jeers of the crowd were soon drowned out by screams as people ran back to their homes. I sat down in the snow, waiting for the skeleton I saw in my vision. Minutes passed, Sounds of dragonbreath coursed through the air. screams behind me followed.

I waited a while, until the screams of my civilians died out, the shape of a man in a dark robe soon appeared in the mist. I could still hear the dragons roar high in the sky. The figure was identical to the one in my vision. I stared at it approaching, ignoring the dragon singing buildings behind me. The figure had the same skeletal arm, holding the same aged axe over it's shoulder.

He was face to face with me now, I could see the glowing blue balls in his otherwise empty eye sockets, blue necromantic magic swirled around his arm and face. A loud thud signaled the dragon landing behind me. The skeleton man readied his axe, the dragon began to breath its fire.

Snapping me out of my trance, the skeleton hit the dragon on the side of the head. Redirecting its stream of heated death into a nearby stone wall. He then grabbed me by the arm, it was now that I got a good close up view of our town savior. A few hairline fractures ran along the top of his head, and about three teeth were missing. Unexpectedly, he opened his jaw and spoke. "Get to safety!" He then threw me to the ground roughly and focused on the dragon once again. I crawled away backward, still watching the fight.

The dragon was recuperating, and it began to stare down the skeleton. The fight didn't last as long as I'd hoped. The skeleton took a few more swings at the dragon, but it was all for naught when the dragon raised its head and ate the skeletons entire torso. Leaving both arms, both legs, and his axe lying on the ground. I quickly crawled up to the bones lying still. No, there is no excuse to die that quickly.

The dragon, clearly glad with itself, roared at me, before launching into the air once again. It only flew to the top of the crumbling stone wall that had at one point protected our town. The dragon, feeling it was the victor, roared and sprayed fire straight up in the air. It was here that I heard a muffled shout of opposition. "Fus… Ro, Dah!" as soon as it finished, the dragon's chest exploded into a dark crimson wave. Out fell the torso of the skeleton, still wiggling around.

The dragon was still roaring in pain by the time it began to crumble and flake away, its scales peeling away in a radiant glowing light. Said light redirected itself to the squirming torso on the floor. Soon the dragon that had once threatened my city was nothing more than a skeleton resting atop our wall. People began to come out of their houses, and the guards finally arrived.

My captain of the guard, Granim pointed a long sword at the skeleton on the ground. "Monster, you're going to die in the name of jarl Idgrod Ravencrone." Really though? I quickly scrambled my way up and ran to the guard holding the sword. Pushing the sword down, I knelt down to the skeleton. "Savior of Morthal, is there anything I can get for you?" He looked at me, and I saw the twinkle of thought in his glowing blue eyes. "My arms and legs would be a good start."

I look up at the guard captain, still holding his sword. "Granim, go retrieve our savior's limbs." He tried to object. "But my jarl, he's a skeleto-" I interrupt him now. "Granim… did you save the town from a dragon? No? Then go get his arms and legs." The captain nodded as he sheathed his sword. Once the skeleton had put his limbs back on, and stood up, I offered my hand to him.

Walking him to the same spot where I had addressed the town earlier. "Ladies and gentlemen of Morthal. This, is the dragonborn, true slayer of dragons. Though ragged and bony, he will stop the dragons, and he will save skyrim." Ending my statement, I raise the skeletons arm into the air, the crowed now cheered at the being who saved them from a fiery death.


	9. Ustengrav Part 1

Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone knew I was coming, she didn't seem to care about my skeletal appearance, her civilians were a little less accepting. The conjurer Falion just wanted to examine me, apparently I am a bit of a necromantic miracle. The jarl's son just wanted to play games. He didn't seem put off by my appearance at all. The rest of the town just seemed disturbed by me, or by that fact that their clairvoyant jarls vision actually came true.

The aging jarl decreed that I would always have a home in Morthal, blissfully ignorant to the protests of her husband and citizens alike. I likely will not come back, Causing a problem with the people I am trying to save is not in my best interests. Who knows though, it might come in handy. Idgrod directed me up another road after I told her I was going to Ustengrav. I set out now through the mire to complete my quest.

Hearing the sounds of bugs in the swamp, I clenched the sleeves of my robe, not wanting any of them to fly in there. My joints grew stiff from the misty air. And the sky went from a bright blue to an overcast grey. Even still, I was beaming, having slain my first dragon. The vile beast had eaten me and I shouted my way out. My ribs and head were still slightly damp from the blood. I had absorbed the dragon's soul, and felt invigorated. I could take on anything.

I wasn't walking for long before I found a rather large dome-shaped protrusion, a few bedrolls and a fire-pit were nearby, nobody was here. I suspected that this was Ustengrav, and after climbing to the rim of the basin like structure. I saw the metal doors indicating nordic ruins. After making my way down the stone steps, I tried to push open the doors, they wouldn't budge.

Taking a running start, I slammed all my weight shoulder first into the doors, They still wouldn't budge. Unbelievable, I just killed a dragon and absorbed it's soul into my very being and now I cant even get through a door? I sat on a stone slab for a few moments, thinking of ways I could go about doing this. I perked my head up suddenly, slapping my bony hand into my forehead, it was so obvious.

I pulled my hood back and stood in front of the door, a few feet back. Concentrating for a few moments in the way the greybeards taught me, I look up at the door and shout. Fus-Ro-Dah! The heavy iron doors swing open, accompanied by a loud crack, as a beam of wood that was holding the door shut from the inside snapped in two. Well that's why I couldn't get in, there's someone in here, and they no doubt heard that crack. I readied my axe and began to descend into Ustengrav, unsure of what I might find.

Descending long enough, I didn't see any people, but I heard vague whispers from down a hallway. I sidled up the wall to get close enough to hear whatever they were talking about. I heard a female voice "Is Gaston back with those damned soul gems yet? We need to dig this wall out, and these bandit's are getting a bit lazy." an older male voice shushes her. "Be patient girl! He'll be back when he gets back." The older voice begins going on a tangent. "You know Foja, back in my day, we excavated ruins with our own two hands! We didn't resurrect bandits to-"

I readied my axe, these seemed like necromancers. I'm not sure if they would be any more or less capable of killing me than anyone else. A necromancer brought me back to life, but my body seems pretty sturdy. I was going to try and fight the necromancers. I stood at the frame of the door, axe in hand, looking right at the two necromancers. A tall golden skinned high elf, with long grey hair tucked behind his ears. And a pale stout nord girl with short red hair.

They turned to look at me, The altmer raising an eyebrow in confusion. He begins to speak but I cut him off with a shout. "Fus!" The two necromancers are pushed back as dust on the floor is kicked up into their faces, and cobwebs fly to the back of the room. In the time that they were recovering, I charged, spinning around for momentum and swinging my axe sideways into the older mage. His words were cut off by horrific screams of pain. "Impudent little Skeleto- AHHHHHH!"

The altmer flies sideways into an iron nordic sarcophagus, an neat pool of blood collecting beneath his still screaming form. The female necromancer had steadied herself and was beginning to cast a spell. I was regaining my stance when she finished the motions. The nord woman made a sick grin and sent the bolt of purple energy sailing passed me into another skeleton.

I turned away from the woman and watched the purple energy swirl around the bones of this skeleton. It began to rise into the air and it's eyes filled with the same balls of magic I had in my own sockets. The skeleton lands on its feet and lifts an ancient greatsword from the ground. I grip my axe in preparation for the skeletons attack. All of a sudden, a feeling I hadn't felt in an incredibly long time struck me, pain. My lower back immediately shook with a sharp, alien pain, I dropped to my knee, my axe falling to the ground with a heavy clatter.

The nord halted the skeleton as she walked in front of me, I looked up to her, my vision getting slightly blurry. She knelt down to look at me with a twisted sadistic smile. "Indolir didn't think keeping a blessed dagger on me was a smart move for an apprentice necromancer." She looks over at the bleeding high elf that had stopped moving by now. "Shows how much he knew. I keep one on hand, just for when one of you experiments get a bit unruly." She chuckles.

I look behind her while she laughs to see the skeleton lifting it's greatsword up slightly and walking up behind her. The skeleton isn't looking at her though, it's looking straight at me, its jaw seemingly locked in place. The young nordic necromancer's chuckling was soon interrupted by the skeleton cleanly bringing it's greatsword through her neck. She stood there for a moment, her eyes getting cloudy, dark blood running down the wound in her neck. She fell backwards and her head rolled into a bundle of nearby linen.

Why exactly did this skeleton, that she brought back herself kill her? I didn't have any time to think on these questions, as the skeleton was soon silently holding its hand down to me. I wasn't going to question this, at least not right now. All I'm going to do is be grateful for the skeletons help. I took it's hand, and hefted myself back onto my feet with our shared supernatural strength. Once I was standing, the skeleton had dropped into a kneel and planted its sword into the hard earth, it was bowing, to me.

I didn't have much time to process this, before more voices could be heard further down the hallway. The skeleton stood up and turned to face the hall. It pointed to a small nook next to the opening the voices were coming from. I took it to mean that the skeleton wanted me to hide there, so I did. I soon heard the noise of many footsteps. I prepared my axe for whoever came through first.

The footsteps became louder and faster, and the skeleton readied it's sword for more necromancers. The three of them rushed into our chamber and began looking around the room, totally ignoring the skeleton, who maintained eye contact with them. A dunmer voice spoke. "What the hell is going on here? What happened to Indolir and Foja?" One of them backed up into my nook, perhaps looking to lean on the wall, he began to speak. "Y'know, heh, wouldn't it be funny if Foja just forgot to bind this skeleton to her?" The third one, an argonian, responded harshly. "No, no that would not be funny, it would be a serious problem."

As the man was leaning back, I lifted my axe over his shoulder with one hand, and grabbed the other end with my opposite hand in one swift motion. Pulling the shaft of my axe against this necromancers neck as hard as I could, I hear a grisly crack, and feel his body go limp without a sound. The two other necromancers turn to see me holding his lifeless body, and they pull out their knives.

The other skeleton takes this as a cue, and swings its sword downward against the argonian. He yells in pain and falls to his knees. The argonian speaks through pained breaths. "What the hell are you doing Draven? Stab the damned skeleton!" The second necromancer lunges forward and thrusts his dagger into my chest. This one wasn't blessed, I felt no pain. I drop the body and rush forward, shoulder blocking the necromancer onto the floor. The argonian speaks again. "The _other_ skeleton you damned fool!" His complaints are interrupted by the other skeletons greatsword being thrust downward into his back and through his chest.

The remaining necromancer crawls away on his back and eventually hits a sarcophagus. "Please, please, don't kill me." I silently pull the dagger out of my chest, and hold my arm against the other skeleton before it could mercilessly end this necromancer. "You, get out, don't come back." I drop the dagger into his lap and turn around. The skeleton turning around with me. Hearing the necromancer scrambling out of ustengrav, I smile to myself.

The skeleton in my company made a silent, but polite bow to me, and proceeded to climb into one of the caskets and hold it's sword in both hands along its chest. It's eyes stop glowing and it grows still. I wonder if I could do that, then shake my head and try to focus. I needed to get the horn of Jurgen Windcaller, I continued down the nordic crypt, not entirely sure what I was going to find.


	10. Ustengrav Part 2

I was continuing down the crypt after watching my skeleton friend return to sovngarde. I pass through quite a few descending tunnels, lit dimly by braziers hanging from the ceiling. Said braziers eerily illuminated the stretched and dry faces of ancient nordic mummies. The ones who still had eyeballs stared vacantly ahead, silently studying me it seems. I eventually came up on a large open room, the ceiling reaching up to a rather large hole that let light in.

I was taking my time watching the beautiful light filter into the cavern, that I hadn't seen the pressure plate. I only took notice once I felt my foot press down, and I heard a deep click come from deep within the earth of this nordic ruin. I look down at the plate, and have barely a moment to think about it before several gouts of flame erupted from small holes on the pressure plate. The fire startles me and I back away quickly from the plate, slapping my bony hands into the fire that was soon on my foot.

Panicking, not because the fire hurt, but because the robes were a gift and I didn't want to ruin them. I look around for anything to put the fire out, soon spotting a small clay jar hanging from ropes not far above the ground. I quickly pull my axe out, stand under the jar, and smack it overhead with the flat side of the axe. If I wasn't expecting the fire in the first place, I really wasn't expecting the purple-orange oil to spill out of the ceramic pot.

I was soon a blazing inferno, as the oil caked my bones, and helped spread the fire along my entire body. My vision was soon obscured by the blazing immolation that I now was. I stumbled around in a very real panic, eventually splashing my foot into something, and hearing a loud hiss of extinguished flame. Taking a leap of faith, I dove forward and splash into a deep pool of mater. Soon sinking, to the darkened depths of this pool, I was just glad to not be on fire anymore, my feet hit the floor of the pool a few seconds later.

I couldn't see four feet in front of me under the murky water, and I could see scraps of grey cloth floating around, having fallen off of my robe, I hoped it wasn't to damaged. Not entirely knowing what to do, I shrug, put the axe on by back and begin trudging through the water. It took far longer than it should have to find anything under the water, but I eventually found a rocky wall. I do a little hop under the water, and with maximum effort, I only ride about a foot. This wasn't going to be easy, but I wasn't leaving anything behind.

I grab a rock on the wall, and start to scale the totally vertical rock face. It only took me a few seconds to sink to the bottom, but it took far longer to climb out. After what felt like an hour, I was finally lying on my back in front of the deep pool. I eventually struggle to make it to my feet with the sopping wet robes. I look around and see a small trail of smoldering ash leading to the water on the other side of the room. I take note of natural looking rock bridge leading over the massive pool of water, and turn around to come face to face with a draugr.

The draugr's glowing blue-purple eyes pierced me. But the ancient nord didn't move, it just stood there, raspily breathing. I back slowly away from the draugr, my foot slips on the rocks near by the bridge, but I regain my composure and continue backing along the bridge. I soon bump into something else. I turn around and see an ancient female nordic warrior, her lips dry and cracked, but still just standing and staring at me.

Sidestepping the draugr but maintaining eye contact, I turn to walk the rest of the bridge, and see more draugr. They were standing in two single file lines, all turned toward me, not moving a muscle. I slowly walk in between all of the shambling corpses, the water dripping from myself being the only noise in the cave, it was reverberating and echoing. The tension in the air was palpable.

The draugr weren't doing anything but staring at me, so it was possible, albeit difficult to ignore them and just continue on. At the end of the lane of the dead, there were three metal gates, and nearby three stones with strange markings on them. When I walked by one of the stones, it began to glow red with arcane energy, and one of the door opened. When I moved to the next stone, a few seconds later, the first stone stopped glowing and the door shut. The same thing happened with the second and third stones.

I backed up to the first stone and prepared to run as fast as I could. I needed to activate all three gates and run through them before they close. Hopefully one of them didn't close while I'm running and crush me. I broke into a sprint and activated all three stones within a second. Speeding up, I run toward the now open gates, "I'm going to make it" was the last thought that crossed my mind by the time the first gate shut while I was a mere foot from it. I bounce my skull off of the shut gate and fall backward in a heap.

Regaining my composure, I stood up and turned around to the various draugr, they were silently judging me. I sullenly back up to the first stone. I had to make it through those gates before they shut. Running through was impossible, I'm pretty sure I busted a kneecap with the speed I was maintaining. If a skeleton could smile, I would be. I turned to the draugr and began to speak. "Here he is folks! The mighty dragonborn… Brought down by a simple metal door!"

I wasn't exactly expecting a response, but they all looked at me and said "Dovahkiin!" in unison. I look at the foul menagerie again before I attempt the doors for a second time. They spoke together once again. "Wuld-Nah-Kest!" That was one of the shouts the greybeards taught me. Was it the one that launched me forward? It better be. I began to sprint again, activating all three stones. When I was roughly two feet from the door, I shouted "Wuld-Nah!" I flew at breathtaking speed through the archways that surrounded the open gates. They didn't close again after I made it through.

The draugr didn't follow me as I went further into the crypt. I didn't pass by much else of note, save for a few more staring draugr. It felt interminable, walking through the endless catacombs. But I was among them, there wasn't a living thing for miles, I was at home, among the dead and decaying, I fit in. I soon came to another stone bridge like structure that extended over a large pool of water. As I approached the bridge, The ground began to shake, and small pockets in the water bubbled.

I stared at the bubbling pockets of water and tried to maintain my balance through the shaking earth. From the water erupted two strange nordic metal structures. They resembled claws. Two more taller claws arose from behind the first two. All four stopped just short of walking height on the bridge. Once the ground had stopped rumbling, I tentatively made my way to a set of iron doors on the other side of the bridge.

On the other side, I saw a large dias, with a sarcophagus on the top. A stone hand reached out of the top of the casket and it held… a little piece of paper. While I was analyzing the scene, I heard another door open up on the other side of the massive room. I crouch down and do my best to remain quiet. I see a woman in leather armor and a hood approaching the casket, she had a dark grey horn in her hand.

I emerged from my hiding spot and began approaching her from behind. "Hello?" I say from behind. She turns, and in one swift motion, she has a katana to my face. "Skeleton! Get back or I will cut you down where you stand!" I back up from her with my hands in the air. She makes a face like she didn't expect that to work. "The undead usually don't venture from their crypts. What are you doing here skeleton?" I point to the horn she has in her hand. "I need that…" She tucks the horn further. "Why?" She's still holding the sword to me, not wavering at all. "The, greybeards, They sent me… for that."

The woman makes a disbelieving face, her sword shaking like she was seeing a ghost, I guess technically she was. "Skeleton, don't you play games with me… The is the horn of Jurgen Windcaller. The only reason the greybeards would have sent you here is if you were dragonborn." I lower my hands, "I… am, dragonborn." she sheaths her sword slowly, not breaking eye contact. After a few moments, she speaks again. "Show me."

I turn away from her toward the water. "Fus!" The water ripples and splashes as my voice reverberates through the cavern. She walks toward me. "I've seen draugr use the voice, I'm sure skeletons are no different. How does that prove you're dragonborn?" I tilt my head and shrug. "Have you ever seen a skeleton speak before?" She stops and looks me in the eye. "I knew the dragonborn. Halbjorn, I couldn't believe he had died. He came to ustengrav to retrieve the horn, just like you're doing."

"I have his soul. I have the dragon soul." She puts the horn into her bag. "Follow me _dragonborn._ I have a small test for you. If you pass, you may have the horn, if not… I'm sure you could figure it out." She walked away from me, her hand resting on her sword. I didn't really have a choice but to follow, so I did. The woman brought me to a large semicircular wall. "If you are dragonborn, one of the words written on this wall will become known to you. Or at least that's what happened to Halbjorn whenever we found one of these things. Step up to the wall skeleton."

As I stepped up to the wall, I began looking around, trying to find anything special. I heard the woman unsheath her sword again, and I quickly tried concentrating on one particular word. "Well, skeleton, it's clear as day that nothing's happened." once she finished, the word I was looking at began to glow. White energies flowed from around the wall, and channeled themselves into me. Once they stopped, I collapse to my knees at the wall. "By the divines, it's really true." I struggle to my feet and the woman runs up and helps me up.

The woman then pulls my hood down and grabs the sides of my head. "Halbjorn, can you hear me… it's Delphine. Are you in there Halbjorn?" Is this woman insane? "Not Halbjorn, Dragonborn." She grabs me by the hand. "You need to come with me. Esbern needs to see this." With that she pulls me down the stairs from the word wall. I shouted "Feim!" the word I had just learned from the wall. With that, my hand passed right through Delphines, and I backed up toward the casket. "You give me the horn, I will go back to the greybeards." Delphine turns toward my ethereal form. "They greybeards are a waste of time Dragonborn. Come with me, we can show you your real destiny."

As my ethereal form fades, I speak again. "I will bring the horn back to the greybeards, give it to me. And I might consider speaking with you afterwards." Delphine drops her shoulders and exhales. Before pulling out of her bag, the horn ,and a paper and quill. She writes a quick note on the paper. "Here Dragonborn, I wrote directions to riverwood. You can speak to me after your exercise in pointlessness... Know this dragonborn, the dragons have come back, they're burning villages, they're eating people. They greybeards will not help you stop them. We will." with that, Delphine turned and walked out of ustengrav.


End file.
